


Your Gentle Caress

by basketcasewrites



Series: Bella Inquietante [3]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Dreams, Egypt, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Pining, Qarinah, Seduction, Sweat, Touching, kinda bottom Wade, kinda top Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 08:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10940835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basketcasewrites/pseuds/basketcasewrites
Summary: Beads of sweat cover his entire body from head to toe in the unbearable heat,  and all Wade longs for is the delicate touch of the boy he has been running away from





	Your Gentle Caress

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a teeny bit sexier than usual

The nights, for Wade, pass slower here in the depths of Egypt than they had ever passed in Manhattan. He convinces himself that if the room were air-conditioned it would be better, complains of this regularly to whom ever there is that will listen.

Heat covers his body in a light sheen of sweat, plastering his clothes to his body and his hair flat to his forehead.

Tossing and turning in the large bed, too big for one person to lay in alone, he waits impatiently for his sleep take him. 

It is not his first night here, in this room, on these sheets, nor is it his second. He has been here for weeks yet it changes nothing -- only after countless hours is he able to fall into a semblance of sleep: fitful, filled with dreams.

He senses an almost palpable change in the room. A silence devoid of even the crickets chirping, a room one hundred degrees much too cool.

In the far corner of the barely furnished room, nearest to the door, Wade's eyes are drawn. As if a force stronger than himself is urging him to look in that direction and not anywhere else.  
Out of shadow, from the darkness that blooms in all the edges of this stark room, steps a hazy figure.

Wade's eyes widen. He stares, entranced by the confident stride, the sway of the hips, the downcast eyes, face almost shyly hidden. His eyes travel over the spirit-like figure nearing to him, unable to look away.

He wonders fleetingly if he is dreaming, a vivid hallucination brought on by the heat that encases and envelopes everything in this country, or if what he sees is really an apparition of sorts.

Near to the bed now, the figure stands, close enough that if Wade wants to he could reach out and touch. Oh, and he really wants to. His fingers itch to do so.  
It is unmasked in his gaze, in the way his fingers stretch out towards the skin, barely covered by a mist-like grey material.  
A powerful force, exactly like the one that had directed his gaze earlier, forces him to look up into the face of the strange figure. 

A giggle, high-pitched and almost childlike, echoes around the room when Wade inhales sharply at the sight of the beautiful yet indistinguishable features in front of him. He has never before been faced with such ethereal beauty, and finds himself at an utter loss. 

"Who are you?" he asks weakly, wishing as he utters the words that he would sound much braver than he feels.

The figure looks at him, small smile playing on their plump pink lips. Eyes that gleam with bright sensuality, brighter mischief.  
Silently they get onto the big bed. Keeping perfect eye contact with Wade, they fall gracefully onto their hands and knees, the cloth of the glittering outfit falling forward to reveal the pale skin of a beauty spot marked shoulder. 

Wade concentrates on breathing evenly as they crawl forward, inching forward with their eyes opened innocently wide, bottom lip placed tantalisingly between their teeth. He can feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest, feels the weight of the stranger as they settle comfortably in his lap.

"What's your name?" he ask, breathless now as he stares into a pair of eyes that shimmer between shades of what may just be brown and an almost intense green. 

"My name?" they ask back at him, voice tinted with a thick, unfamiliar accent. He caresses Wade's left cheek gently in his hand. "My name, sweetheart, is one that is much too difficult for a little petal like you to say. Why don't you give me a name."

They lean forward as they speak, whispering the last part of the sentence into Wade's ear. Their tongue, soft to the touch and enticingly wet, sneaks out between their lips and licks a stripe over his ear, sending an uncontrollable shiver up Wade's spine.

"Peter," he replies without thinking.

"Peter?" they ask with a wry, knowing smile. "Why?"

"You remind me of my boy -- a boy," Wade says. "A boy back home. One that I can't have."

"Then for you, I am 'Peter'," they say, planting a soft kiss to Wade's neck. Their body shimmers in and out of focus, seems to vibrate rapidly before Wade's eyes. He stares, marvels, as the figure changes from being indistinguishable to being one that he knows dearly. "Do you like it?" they ask, and if not for the accent Wade could have deluded himself into believing that it is actually Peter straddling him; actually Peter who lays with him between his tensing thighs.

"Very much," he mutters, closing his eyes.

"And this?" Peter murmurs, trailing soft hands down Wade's naked chest and torso, lingering above the hem of his tight briefs. He stares deep into Wade's eyes, gauging each minute reaction as he glides his hands over the hardening lump under the material. "This feels good?"

"Yes," he breathes out, eyes fluttering open as he looks up and into the pair of coffee coloured eyes.

"Peter -- the other Peter -- he makes you feel good, too?"

Wade hesitates, breath hitching as Peter tightens his grip around Wade. "Peter doesn't touch me like this," he says honestly, the words pulling at his heartstrings as he says them. "He can't... He won't." 

"Poor baby," Peter pouts down at him, voice laced with a sweet sympathy. He pets at him softly through the material, cradles him fondly. "My poor, poor baby. And all you want is for him to love you?" Wade nods up at him, frowning. "Oh, Wade. Oh, sweetheart. My sweetheart. I am sorry, but I am here. I am here and I can make you feel amazing."

He watches wordlessly as Peter lowers himself nearer to Wade's crotch. A quiet gasp escapes him at the warmth of Peter's lips against his crotch, pressing them firmly against him through the fabric. 

"Do you want me to make you feel amazing?" Peter asks and looks up at Peter with his widely open innocent eyes, once again biting at his beautiful bottom lip. His voice quietens, almost as if he is begging Wade, pleading with him. "Do you?"

He tries to say yes, wants to voice his thoughts so badly. He feels his throat constrict, finds himself distracted and unable to say anything. Unable, even, to think straight with the way that Peter is pressed against him.

Twice, eagerly, he nods, giving his permission to Peter to continue. As if his head were too heavy for his neck to support any longer, Wade drops back against the soft pillow and allows himself to be taken into the warm, wet cavern of Peter's mouth. Rides the waves of the complete and utter enjoyment that Peter brings to him. 

 

He wakes next morning, alone and surprisingly cold. Except for him and the few litterings of furnishings, the room is empty. 

Wade inches off the bed, cringing painfully as he does. With each step that he takes and every movement that he makes he feels his body flame, delicious pain shooting through the lower half of his body. 

Purple bruises from being aggressively sucked at blossom all over his pale skin, deep bite marks into the flesh of his shoulders.

These are the only signs that he had not been alone the night before: the sheets are clean, completely free of semen and the seductive stench of sex. 

 

Every night now the creature he calls Peter comes to him. A provocative temptation finding its way into the depths of his mind, his night, his dreams. A seductress of the highest order.

The visits, feverish and stimulating, leave no other trace but for what was on Wade's body.  
Visits that leave him longing, wanting more and more, until his body is wracked with delectable agony.

 

He has taken what all the older people he knows teasingly call a 'lover'. 

A young man from the floor above his, dark shoulder-length hair and even darker eyes. Hair that sticks to the sides of his face and his neck when he is covered in slick sweat, eyes that darken drastically when he is in the throes of absolute primal lust. 

He grabs his attention from the moment that Wade lays eyes on him. 

Beautiful, with a smile that lights up the room and a voice that grabs Wade from the very beginning.  
A smile that turns into a startled 'oh' when he is with Wade, voice that rings and echoes throughout and beyond the room.

Wade is drawn to him instantly, making quick work of bringing him into his home and, furthermore, into his bed. 

His lover kisses him thrice, softly, hurriedly and already halfway out the front door. They haven't been together long -- a week is hardly long in the circumstances of that of an adult relationship.

"See you t'morrow," he says between languid kisses before rushing off to work the night shift.

"I'll keep you to that!" Wade calls after him, smiling as the boy waves his way over his leather clad shoulder.

He settles back into his apartment, into the bed that he has to re-accustom himself to sleeping in alone. Soon he falls under the comforting blanket of sleep, dragging him under its waves. 

"And who is this boy?" Wade is greeted by the harsh tone of Peter's voice, a knife cutting through him, cutting to the bone.

"Who is which boy?"

"Do not play games. Who is this boy that you are... entertaining?" Peter asks, seething in his quiet fury. He does not voice his anger, does not waver, yet his eyes blaze and his figure shimmers violently and indistinctly in and out of focus.

"Someone important."

"More important than me?" Peter asks with a now quivering bottom lip, tears filming over his eyes, dulling the ire behind them. His voice shakes, in anger and hurt. "More important than me?"

"You're just a dream," Wade says with intense conviction, for once not beating around the bush with Peter. Grateful that he is able to tell him exactly what he is thinking, he clenches his fists firmly as he stares Peter down. 

"Just a dream!" comes the deafening shriek, knocking Wade back onto the bed with its force.

The weight of Peter settles heavily over Wade's naked body, pushing him to sink into the mattress.

"And a dream," Peter begins in a mutter, voice low, eyes merely a pair of dark slits. He hoists Wade's legs effortlessly over his shoulders, circling a wettened finger over his exposed hole he elicits an explicit, R-Rated moan from Wade. "A dream, it can make you feel like this?"

"No," he breathes out, aching for Peter to touch him again as he withdraws. 

"And this boy," Peter mutters with disdain, spitting out the words as if it were sin simply to mention him. As if it were filth. He repeats his earlier action, penetrating him deeper than before, smirking at the loud throaty moan that Wade tries to stifle. "This boy, he too can make you feel like this? With just a single touch, he can break you down?"  
Wade breathes heavily, "No. Oh, God. No. Not even close."

"Good," Peter says, pulling his finger out. He glares down at Wade, suggestively licking at his index finger as he does so. "Then you will end this- this affair with your 'someone important'. Or else, my sweetheart, there will be dire consequences. You understand?" 

"Yes," Wade agrees, staring longingly at Peter's mouth, his tongue as it slides over his finger. Right now, he will agree to anything if it means he can have Peter's hands on him. "I understand. Just. Please. Touch me."

Peter lowers himself onto Wade, kissing him slowly and passionately. He murmurs softly, sweetly against the rough pair of lips beneath his own. "My sweet boy. Of course you understand. Of course I shall touch you."

He slips his hand over Wade's member, kneading him gently between his nimble fingers. Wade let's out a quiet whimper at the very touch, cries out for more.

"Sweet boy. My sweet boy. My sweet boy," Peter repeats himself over and over as he stares down adoringly at Wade. "Tomorrow you will end your affair. You will be mine again. Only mine. All mine."

**Author's Note:**

> The "creature" referred to in this fic is not the Succubus/Incubus but, in fact, the Qarinah. 
> 
> The Qarinah is an Egyptian fae or spirit similar to the Succubus in that they visit men in their dreams in the form of a beautiful woman and have sex with them.  
> They are said to be invisible, but a person with "second sight" can see them, often in the form of a cat, dog, or other household pet.  
> In the dream they won’t show their true form which is demonic, however if the man wakes and has sleep paralysis it is common for men to have reported seeing a demon atop them, holding them down.  
> Another point is that Qarinah can actually get attached to the man whose dreams they visit and became jealous if that man goes on to try to marry a human wife, with reports that the Qarinah will often try to harm the wife, or the man himself. So, in these cases, men who are frequented by the same Qarinah feel they cannot marry for fear of their own life or their prospective wife’s life. 
> 
> ~ This is just a little bit of information and I've tweaked (added creative flair) to the story for creativity purposes ~


End file.
